The Swordsman
by TheK-popOtaku
Summary: What if wizards didn't use wands? What if they used enchanted weapons instead (becoming a swordsman)? Harry Potter's parents were killed by the invasion of Death Eaters, and now he's living with the horrible Dursleys (poor Harry). But when Harry gets enrolled at Hogwarts, everything changes. He must face Voldemort after eleven years...
1. The Boy Who Survived

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

September 1981

The evening was calm...and Lily Potter along with James Potter were relaxing together with one-year old Harry Potter, zipping around on his tiny toy broomstick and laughing.

What happened next was so unexpected.

A loud BOOM startled them. Little Harry he fell off his broomstick, landing on his bottom.

Lily went over to check on him as Harry began to cry loudly.

James went over to the window. His eyes widened at what he saw.

"Death Eaters," he said in disbelief. The Death Eaters were bombing the houses and some were headed towards them.

"Lily!" James called. "Go upstairs with Harry and hide!"

Lily's eyes looked alarmed as she nodded.

James quickly went over to the wall, where his sword hung. Grabbing the hilt, he unsheathed it.

He ran outside to face the Death Eaters.

Upstairs, Lily was watching everything. James had ran outside. The Death Eaters began to slash their enchanted swords at James, but he deflected them all with his sword. Suddenly, a Death Eater sneaked past James and ran into the house. He was the one who had been leading the others. _The commander._ In other words, probably...Voldemort.

Lily looked around desperately for a hiding place. Under the bed? No. Too easy for him to find. In the tiny room behind the bookshelf? No. She couldn't fit anymore. But Harry could...

As the footsteps grew louder, Lily clutched Harry to her chest and pulled out the book that led to the room. She pushed Harry in, then closed the hidden door.

The footsteps stopped. She looked behind her, and there he was. Voldemort. She had guessed right.

"Well, well, well," he said, smirking, "Look who we have here."

Lily ignored his comment.

He pulled out his weapon, an enchanted rifle, and pointed it directly at her heart. "Who else is here? Perhaps a child? We heard crying."

Her eyes widened in terror, but she managed to say, "You must have gotten the wrong house. We have no child here."

He arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She nodded quickly.

He did not drop his arm. Instead, his fist clenched around the handle harder. "Liar."

Then he shot her. Right in the chest.

The last thing Lily heard before her death was a bomb. Around her, everything went up in flames.

Her vision went black.

"Such damage..."

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood next to the remains of the house where Lily and James had lived in.

Hagrid wiped a tear from his eye. "Harry was so little. Only one!"

Dumbledore stepped into the ashes of the house. A glowing sword laid there, unscathed.

"The Cursed Sword..." he muttered. "I warned James not to do it..."

Hagrid stepped in and started walking towards a box that was still standing, also unscathed. He opened the little door, and found Harry, tears on his face, sucking his thumb, asleep.

Hagrid lifted the little body out. He cried even harder. Harry's body was there, but he was dead.

"Sir," Hagrid said quietly, between sniffles.

Dumbledore lifted up his head and looked at Hagrid. His gaze settled on Harry.

Dumbledore walked over and wriggled his hand underneath Harry's sheets. His hand came to a stop on the baby's chest.

There was a heartbeat.

Slowly, Dumbledore stood up. "Amazing," he said quietly. "No one, not even James, could have survived the bomb."

He took a closer look at the cabinet. It looked ordinary, but Dumbledore was sure it was not. Could this cabinet be...

"Do yeh think this is the Enchanted Cabinet?" Hagrid asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "It is very possible that it could be."

He tapped it with his finger. The cabinet shrunk into the size of a small pocketbook and Dumbledore tucked it into his robes.

Then he looked at Harry. Without parents, how would he survive?

The idea struck him. Lily had a mortal sister named Petunia.

Harry's _aunt_.

Prodocing a piece of parchment and a quill out of thin air, Dumbledore started to write.

Harry was found on the porch step of the Dursleys' the morning after the bombing of his house. Petunia screamed-she had not been expecting a child.

Vernon rushed over to see what was the matter. When he saw the child, he roared, "WHAT IS THIS? SOME KIND OF TRICK?"

It was then Petunia noticed the scroll sticking out. She pulled it out and unrolled it.

 _Dear Mrs Petunia Dursley,_

 _Here on your doorstep you find a child. He is your nephew, your sister's son. Recently, your sister was killed in the bombing, and so was her husband. Their son, Harry Potter, is the only survivor. I ask you to please take him in and treat him like your own son. He has no one now. Only you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Petunia's hand shook. Lily...

Vernon snatched the letter from her hands and scanned over it.

"Never!" he yelled, crumpling the note. "We are not taking him in!"

"We...we must, Vernon," Petunia said.

"What?" Vernon rounded on her.

"If...if the neighbors hear about this, we will look bad," Petunia said. "We don't want to look bad, do we, Vernon?"

He hesitated. "I s'pose you have a point," he grumbled. He stomped back into the house.

Petunia hoisted up Harry, bringing him into the house.

"BUT HE WILL HAVE TO STAY IN THE CUPBOARD! I DON'T WANT ANY REMINDER OF _HER_ HERE!" Vernon roared from somewhere in the house.

Petunia flinched and looked at Harry. Shaking her head, she stuffed him into the cupboard. She couldn't risk making Vernon angry.

Harry started to cry. Petunia figured he must be hungry, so she got some milk and fed it to him.

He started to gulp. It was then she noticed that his eyes...were the same as Lily's.

She mentally choked back tears. She didn't show her real feelings for her sister. That was a rule. No mentioning her sister.

She was going to have a real son soon, though. She couldn't possibly take care of both of them, could she? She placed her hand on her belly, which was starting to swell.

Then she remembered that he must be like Lily. Going to that _place_ at age eleven.

Ten more years. Ten more she will have to deal with Harry Potter.


	2. Dudley's Worst Birthday

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
Ten years later  
"Up! Get up! Now!" Aunt Petunia screamed, rapping on his door.  
Harry woke up with a start.  
"Up!" Aunt Petunia screeched again. Her footsteps headed towards the kitchen. Harry rolled over, trying to remember about the dream he had. It had been a good one this time—about a flying bike.  
Within a few seconds, his aunt was back at his door.  
"Are you up yet?" she demanded.  
"Nearly," said Harry.  
"Well, get up now. This instant! Today is Dudley's birthday, and I need you to look after the bacon. And you better not let it burn!"  
Harry groaned. He had forgotten today was Dudley's birthday./p  
"What was that?" Aunt Petunia snapped through the door./p  
"Huh? Oh...nothing, nothing at all," Harry lied./p  
Harry reached under his bed for a sock. He pulled a spider off it, and put it on. Spiders were often seen in this cupboard, so Harry was used to them./p  
After he was dressed, Harry went downstairs. The dining table was piled with presents for Dudley. He walked over to the sltove and flipped over the bacon.  
Comb your hair!" he barked at Harry.  
It would an impossible task—to flatten Harry's messy, untidy hair. It grew all over the place, and no matter how many times he had tried to flatten it, it stayed untidy. It wasn't his fault.  
Dudley arrived by the time Harry had finished frying the bacon and was frying eggs.  
There's our birthday boy!" Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on the shoulder.  
Dudley started to count his presents. "Thirty-six." He looked at his parents.  
"Sweetie, you didn't count this one, underneath Mummy and Daddy's present. It's from Aunt Marge," Aunt Petunia said, revealing the other present underneath a huge, gigantic one.  
"Thirty-seven, then." Dudley turned red in anger. "One less than last year."  
Harry sensed a Dudley tantrum coming on. And due to how red Dudley was in the face, this was going to be a big one.  
Aunt Petunia must have realized this, too, because she said quickly, "Then we'll get you em style="box-sizing: border-box;"two /emmore presents. How about that?"  
Dudley thought about it. "So I'll have, um, thirty-eight?"  
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Aunt Petunia corrected.  
"Oh." Dudley grinned and sat down, grabbing the top parcel. "Ok then."  
Just then, the phone rang. Aunt Petunia rushed over to answer it, while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap a racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. Dudley was just about to unwrap his sixth preasent when Aunt Petunia walked in.  
"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg broke her leg. She said she couldn't take him." Aunt Petunia jerked her head towards Harry.  
Dudley looked up, his mouth opened in shock.  
Uncle Vernon looked furious. "We can't let him come with us!"  
"You can just leave me in the house, alone," Harry suggested.  
"And come back to find the house in ruins?" Aunt Petunia glared at Harry as if this was all his fault.

"I won't break anything, I promise," Harry said. She didn't seem to believe him.  
"I s'pose we could take him to the zoo with us...and leave him in the car," Aunt Petunia said slowly.  
"I just bought the car a few days ago. It's perfectly new and I don't want him sitting in there alone," Uncle Vernon said. "Who knows what he'll do?"  
Dudley started to cry loudly. However, Harry could tell that Dudley was faking it—whenever he started to pretend crying, his mother would get him anything.  
"Don't cry, Dinky Duddydums, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" Aunt Petunia hugged her son.  
Dudley sniffed. "I...don't...want...him...to come!" He started wailing once more.  
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.  
"Goodness, they're here!" Aunt Petunia cried. She released Dudley and went over to open the door.  
In stepped Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend, with his mother. Dudley immediately stopped pretending to cry at once.  
Half an hour later"—Harry couldn't believe his luck—he was sitting in the backseat of the Dursleys' car, with Piers and Dudley.

Harry slid out of the car. Uncle Vernon grabbed his shirt collar and put his big, purple face right up close to Harry's. "I'm warning you: one wrong move, and you're spending your time in the cupboard until Christmas."

"Don't worry, I won't do anything wrong," Harry assured his uncle.

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe him. No one ever did.  
First, they went to buy some ice cream. It was a long line, Harry noticed.  
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Harry turned. A girl with bushy brown hair stood there, looking at him curiously.  
"Aren't you Harry Potter?" she asked.  
"Um, yeah," Harry said awkwardly.  
"Everyone's been talking about you," she said.  
"Have they?" Harry looked at her, surprised. "Why would they?"  
She frowned. "You don't know that you're famous? Haven't you recieved the letter yet?"  
He blinked at her. "What letter?  
She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Hogwarts School of Magick Swordcraft! I just got it yesterday. My parents and I are here to celebrate the fact that I got accepted. I heard that it's a very hard school to get into, and I'm very glad that I was chosen."  
She continued. "You aren't what I thought you would be. I thought you would be all noble-like. But you're not. You act like you're perfectly normal."  
"I am," Harry said.  
"You sure look like it, but I'm pretty sure you'll get a place at the school too."  
"What else do you know about me?"  
The girl paused. "D'you know how your parents died? No, that's silly. Of course you do."  
"They died in a car crash."  
She stared at him. "That's not true! Who would tell you such a lie?"  
Harry shrugged. "My aunt and uncle told me that." He nodded towards Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.  
She looked horrified as she looked at them. "I think you ought to know the truth. Your parents were killed by a villian. The worst villian of all villians. His name was—"  
"Who's that, huh?" Dudley had waddled over to where Harry was.  
The girl shot a questioning glance at Harry, who mouthed,"my cousin. She nodded.  
Dudley took a closer look at her, then smirked. At his side, Piers grinned.  
Dudley pounded his fist into his other hand, sneering.  
The girl frowned at him.  
Dudley grabbed her head and locked his arm around her neck. Her eyes widened as she choked. She looked at Harry, her eyes pleading.  
Harry tried to pry Dudley's arm off the girl, but Dudley just puched him away. Harry landed on the floor, and his glasses fell off and skittered away.  
Harry felt around for his glasses, and put them on. Adults were staring, and the girl was still suffering.  
Harry lowered his head, and charged like a bull at Dudley's back. Dudley turned, and Harry's head hit Dudley in the belly.  
Dudley gave a little "Oof!" and crumpled. The girl stumbled away, gasping for breath.  
"Dudders!" Aunt Petunia cried. She lifted up his body. "Are you hurt? What happened?"  
Dudley pointed a finger at Harry. "Him." Then he turned and pointed at the girl. "And her, too."  
Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry. "We're gonna talk about this when we get home, you hear me?"  
Harry could only nod, as his mind tried to grasp around what had just happened.  
Uncle Vernon's nostrils flared as he slowly, very slowly, turned to the girl. "AND YOU! YOU, A STRANGER, DARE HURT MY SON?" Spit flew out of his mouth and flew into the girl's hair.

"Sir, I-" the girl tried to explain.

"You deserve a punishment!" Uncle Vernon roared. "Dudley, show her!"

Dudley stood up and punched her on the jaw. She staggered away, clutching her jaw.  
Uncle Vernon stormed away, and Dudley followed.  
"Are you okay?" Harry asked the girl. She nodded.  
"YOU! HURRY UP!" Uncle Vernon's voice screamed at him.  
"One more question: What's your name?" Harry asked in a hurried whisper.  
She looked surprised that he had even bothered asking. "Hermione Granger."  
"I've got to go," Harry said quickly. He hurried away.

Harry got into the backseat of the car with Dudley and Piers.  
Uncle Vernon's fist were white as he clenched the steering wheel. His face was purple.  
When they got home and Piers's mother had picked him up, Uncle Vernon lost control of his temper. "Go to your cupboard. NO DINNER TONIGHT!" His face was so purple as he collapsed onto a chair. Aunt Petunia offered him a drink. He took it and chugged it down.  
Harry sighed, and walked over to his cupboard. He crouched, crawling into the door. Taking off his socks, he laid on his bed./p  
When would life with the Dursleys be over? 


	3. Letters

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

For the days following Dudley's birthday, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia tortured Harry whenever they got the chance.

"Go get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said to his son.

"Make Harry get it." Dudley was focused on his video game. He didn't even look up.

"Go get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Dudley, I give you permission to hit him."

At this, Dudley looked up. But Harry was already out the door. He opened the mailbox and pulled out two letters.

The first letter was from Aunt Marge, and when Harry took out the second one, he noticed that it was sent to _him_.

Harry was about to open it, when from inside, Uncle Vernon yelled, "Hurry up, boy! Waht are you doing, checking for bombs?" He roared in laugher.

Harry quickly stuffed the letter into his pocket and went inside.

He handed Aunt Marge's letter to Uncle Vernon, then turned to his cupboard, secretly taking out his letter and ripping it open.

"Dad, Harry's got a letter," Dudley said suddenly.

Uncle Vernon's head snapped up. He immediately noticed the letter in Harry's hands. "Give that here, boy," Uncle Vernon demanded.

"It's addressed to me," Harry said.

"Must be addressed to the wrong person, must actually be for us," Uncle Vernon said. He snatched the envelope out of Harry's hands.

"Hey! Give that back!" Harry yelled, trying to snatch the envelope back. But Uncle Vernon held it high in the air out of Harry's reach.

Pulling out the letter, Uncle Vernon opened it and his tiny, beady eyes scanned over the words. His face turned purple.

"P-P-Petunia!" Uncle Vernon spluttered.

"Dad, can I see it?" Dudley asked eagerly, reaching for the letter. Uncle Vernon stood up and went over to the kitchen.

"Get in the hall!" he barked at Harry and Dudley. He pushed them out into the hall and slammed the door shut, locking it.

Dudley immediately got to his knees and pressed his ear against the keyhole. Harry was forced to lean towards the bottom of the door to eavesdrop.

"What are we going to do, Vernon?" Aunt Petunia asked quietly. "Should we send a message back? Tell them-"

"No," Uncle Vernon muttered. Finally deciding, he said, "No. We'll ignore them. Yes, that's it. We'll ignore them."

And then they started to whisper as if they knew hat Harry and Dudley were listening. The words were too quiet for Harry to hear. He only heard one word repaeated over and over again: freak school.

Harry moved away from the door, head pounding. Was he being sended to a school for freaks? If so, then why did Uncle Vernon say to ignore them? Wouldn't he have happily sent Harry away?

The door swung open.

"Where's my letter?" Harry demanded. Uncle Vernon grinned.

"Burned it," he said, cackling like a madman.

In the evening, there came a loud rapping on Harry's cupboard door. Uncle Vernon's big, ugly face peeked inside, with a huge smile on his face.

"Bring your things," he said. "You're going to Dudley's old room."

It took Harry only one trip from the first floor to the second, since he barely had anything in his cupboard, anyways.

From downstairs, Harry could hear Dudley whining and complaining, "He can't sleep there! I _need_ that room!"

Harry collapsed onto the bed. Yesterday, he would have given anything to be in this room. Today, he would rather have been in his cupboard with the letter than up here without it.

For the first time, he remembered what Hermione, that girl he had chatted with, had said, "Haven't you recieved the letter yet?"

He wondered if the letter she had been talking about was the same as the letter from today.

"Go get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon ordered. Dudley waddled outside.

A few seconds later, he shouted, "Look! There's another one! Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, Number 4-"

Uncle Vernon shot up from his seat and ran outside. Harry followed.

Uncle Vernon had to tackle Dudley to the ground in order to wrestle the letter out of his hands. Harry grabbed Uncle Vernon's neck. After a minute of fighting, Uncle Vernon, stood, clutching the letter. He was gasping.

"Go to your bedroom," he said, between breaths, to Harry. "Dudley-you too."

Dudley grumbled, and stomped into the house. Harry turned to his uncle.

"I want-" he began.

"GO TO YOUR BEDROOM!" Uncle Vernon roared.

Harry, knowing it was best not to fight with mad Uncle Vernon, turned and walked into the house. Behind him, he could hear the sound of paper getting ripped.

Harry paced around his new room. It was very strange how the sender of the letter had known that he no longer lived in the cupboard and they seemed to know that he hadn't recieved his first letter. Perhaps that meant that they would try again?

 _Tomorrow,_ Harry thought, _he would make sure he got the letter._

Harry's alarm clock rang at six o'clock in the morning. Turning it off quickly, Harry dressed up silently. He couldn't wake the Dursleys, or else he'll probably be sent back into the cupboard for the whole month.

Harry tiptoed down the stairs in the dark. He was going to wait at the mailbox for the postman to make sure he'll get his letter first-before it would get into the hands of Uncle Vernon again. Harry crept through the hall and headed towards the front door. His heart pounded in excitement as he quickened his steps. He was almost there, just a few more steps-

"AAAAARRRRGH!"

Harry jumped a foot into the air in surprise. He had stepped on something squashy, something big, something _alive!_

Upstairs, lights were flicked on. Harry looked down and saw his uncle's quite very mad face. Harry realized that apparently, Uncle Vernon had decided to sleep in a sleeping bag at the front of the front door to make sure that Harry would not sneak out to get the mail. Uncle Vernon stood up and shouted at Harry for what felt like an hour, before yelling at Harry to bring him a cup of tea. Miserable that his plan had failed (thanks a lot, Uncle Vernon), Harry boiled some water. By the time he brought the tea to Uncle Vernon, the mail had already arrived, and his letters- _three_ of them-had already arrived, sitting on Uncle Vernon's lap. Uncle Vernon ripped them all into shreds before Harry could even open his mouth to ask for his letters.

After drinking his tea, Uncle Vernon went outside to nail up the mail slot, missing a whole day of work.

"If it's shut," Uncle Vernon was saying to Aunt Petunia, "they just won't be able to deliver, andthey'll just give up."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Vernon," Aunt Petunia said.

"Trust me, Petunia," Uncle Vernon said, knocking in a nail. "These people's minds aren't like yours or mine. There won't be any way for them to deliver any more of those letters."

On Friday, 12 letters for Harry were pushed under the door, and a few had even been forced through the tiny window in the downstairs bathroom.

Yet again, Uncle Vernon missed work and stayed home to board up all the cracks around the front and back door, after burning up the letters. No one could go out now.

On Saturday, 24 letters addressed to Harry managed to find their way into the egg carton (all rolled up and hidden) that had been brought to them by their very confused milkman through the living room window.

Uncle Vernon made several furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy, while Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"I didn't know you had friends," Dudley said to Harry that day.

"I don't," Harry said. But he wondered if the letters were perhaps from that girl he had met that day. As he mused over this thought, he decided that it was very unlikely. The girl didn't know where he lived, much less which room he had.

On Sunday, things started to get crazy. Uncle Vernon had just collapsed onto the living room couch, smiling.

"No post on Sundays," he said, looking relieved. But right after he had finished his sentence, something came whizzing out of the fireplace, hitting him on the back of the head. The next minute, what looked like a hundred letters (all for Harry) all flew into the living room from the fireplace. The Dursleys ducked their heads, trying to avoid being hit by the letters, but Harry was jumping up and down, trying to catch one. He caught one, and joy like never before flooded into him. Finally, he would get to read the letter. He had just ripped it open and red the words on the top, _Hogwarts School of Magick Swordcraft_ , before-

Uncle Vernon suddenly noticed the letter in Harry's hands. He quickly ran over, snatching it out of his hands.

"Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon yelled, grabbing Harry and throwing him out into the hall.

Hogwarts School of Magick Swordcraft...it was the same school Hermione had been enrolled in. Did that mean...

Harry almost jumped in excitement. He was accepted! Hermione had been right, it seemed, about him getting the same letter.

Uncle Vernon entered the hall through the living room door. "That's it," he said. "We're leaving this house. Pack up. Clothes only!"

A few minutes later, after they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up door, they were in the car, speeding towards the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat-his father had refused to let him bring any of his electronics.

Uncle Vernon drove for hours. No one asked him where they were going. They didn't even stop to eat of drink. By the time night fell, Dudley was crying-he had never had such a bad day in his life, and he was starving.

Finally, Uncle Vernon stopped, and parked the car. Harry looked out the window. There was a big, gloomy looking hotel right outside. It seemed that Uncle Vernon had drove all the way to the outskirts of the city.

"We're here," Uncle Vernon said cheerfully, leading them inside.

Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds. Dudley fell asleep immediately, snoring, but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at passing cars.

When the Dursleys and Harry went down for breakfast that morning, they ate stale cornflakes and cold tomatoes on toast. They had just finished when the manager of the hotel came over to their table.

"Excuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter?" She held up a letter addressed in green ink. It said:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Harry immediately made a grab for the letter, but Uncle Vernon slapped his hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take that," Uncle Vernon said quickly, and they left the dining room.

"This is not working!" Uncle Vernon yelled in frustration.

"Why don't we just go back home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested, but Uncle Vernon ignored her. He drove to the middle of a forest, stopped, looked around, and shook his head. He repeated the process for a middle of a field, a bridge, and the top of a parking garage with multi-levels.

Finally, they came to a stop at the coast. Uncle Vernon got off, and was gone longer than before.

"Mom, today is Monday, and the Great Humberto's on. I want to stay somewhere with a TV," Dudley complained to his mother.

Monday...that meant tomorrow would be Tuesday, Harry's birthday, when he would officially turn eleven. You could count on Dudley to know what day of the week it was, because of TV.

Right at that moment, Uncle Vernon returned. He was holding a long, thin package.

"What's in that package, dear?" Aunt Petunia asked her husband. He pretended not to hear her.

"Come out, and bring your luggage!" Uncle Vernon said cheerfully. "We're staying here for the night!"

Uncle Vernon was pointing at a rock in the middle of the sea, far out. Harry squinted. Perched on top of the rock was a tiny hut. There was definitely no television there.

"There's gonna be a storm tonight! And this kind gentlemen has even offered to let us borrow his boat to get to our hut!" Uncle Vernon gestured behind him, where a toothless old man stood. He had a very wicked grin, as he pointed at an old rowboat on the shore.

"All aboard!" Uncle Vernon pushed the boat onto the water. Then they all climbed on.

The boat felt like it was made out of ice as Harry sat down. It got even colder as Uncle Vernon rowed the boat toward the hut on the rock. Sea foam bubbled all around them. The high wind blew water at them, wetting them.

Finally they reached the rock. Slipping and sliding on the wet surface, they entered the hut.

Inside, it was damp and it smelled like seaweed. The fireplace was damp and empty, and there were only two rooms.

"Make yourselves feel at home," Uncle Vernon said cheerfully, taking out four bags of chips and four bananas.

He was in the best mood Harry had ever seen him in, because he must've thought that there would be no chance of any letters reaching them in the middle of the sea with a storm raging.

At nightfall, the predicted storm started as wind blew the windows and high waves hit the side of the hut. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets and made a bed for Dudley on the couch in the second room. Then she and Uncle Vernon went to the bed in the first room to go to sleep. Harry was forced to sleep on the floor under the thinnist, most worn-out blanket.

But Harry couldn't sleep. Not with the loud storm and the splashing waves hitting the walls of the hut. Instead, Harry decided to focus on Dudley's watch, which had a lighted screen.

In ten minutes, Harry would turn eleven. He stared and wondered if he would ever get to actually read his letter.

Five minutes...Harry wondered where Hermione Granger was now. Where was the letter writer?

Three minutes...The walls of the hut creaked, the roof groaned. Harry hoped the roof wasn't going to cave in.

Two minutes...Waves splashed the rock, and Harry thought, just for a second, that a tinyy drop of water had hit his face. But maybe (one minute) it was just his imagination.

Thirty seconds to go and he'd be eleven. Was he ever going to even enter Hogwarts? He doubted the Dursleys would even let him.

Twenty seconds. Would he ever recieve his next letter? Fifteen seconds until he turned eleven. Harry stared at Dudley's watch.

Ten seconds. Now eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...

BOOM.

Dudley let out a scream and Harry bolted up. Someone from outside was knocking at the door.

How did they get here?


	4. Hagrid

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

BOOM.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia rushed into Harry and Dudley's room. Uncle Vernon was holding a rifle. Now Harry knew what had been inside the long package.

"Who's there?" Uncle Vernon yelled. "I'm warning you-I'm armed!"

There was a pause. And then-

SMASH!

The door fell forward, and a giant squeezed through the tiny doorway. Long, shaggy hair, and a bushy beard nearly covered his face. Under all that, Harry could make out the giant's eyes, gleaming like black beetles.

The giant picked up the door laying on the floor, and fitted it easily back into its frame. He turned to look at the Dursleys.

He strode over to the sofa, where Dudley was frozen in fear. "Get up, yeh great lump of a pig," the giant said.

Dudley squeaked, and ran to hide behind his mother, who was hiding behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here you are, Harry!" the giant said. Harry looked up at him and saw that the giant's face was crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw yeh, yeh was only a baby," the giant said. "Yeh look almost like the exact replica of yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon pointed his rifle at the giant. "I order you to leave at once, sir!" he shouted. "Or, I swear, I'll shoot!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley," the giant said, casually. He stood up, took the rifle from Uncle Vernon's hands, and twisted it into a knot easily as if it were a rope. Harry wasn't exactly surprised. Considering the giant's size, he must be as strong as twenty men.

Uncle Vernon's beady little eyes followed the rifle, now twisted into a knot, as the giant tossed it inot the corner or the hut.

"So, Harry," the giant said, smiling yet again. "Happy eleventh birthday! Me've got a cake here fer yeh-reckon I sat on it by accident, but it'll taste fine."

The giant pulled out a slightly squashed box from his long black coat and handed it to Harry, who opened it. Inside was a large, chocolate cake with the words, _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on the top in black icing.

"Made it meself," the giant said proudly.

Harry couldn't speak. He had never gotten a birthday cake. He meant to say thank you, but instead, all that came out was, as he looked up from the cake to the giant, "Who are you?"

"Er...oops, sorry 'bout that. Didn't tell you who me was, did I?" The giant chuckled. "Rubeus Hagrid, Gamekeeper at Hogwarts. Call me Hagrid."

Harry gasped. "You-you're from Hogwarts School of Magick Swordcraft!" Harry looked at him, excited.

"That's right," Hagrid said. "How do yeh know that? I thought yeh didn't get yer letters."

The Dursleys were also looking at Harry; they had never told him any of this. So Harry went into a long explanation, about how he had met Hermione Granger at the zoo, how she had told him that he was famous, and many more of the things he had never known. When he finished, Hagrid was nodding.

"IF I EVER MEET THAT GIRL AGAIN, I WILL BEAT HER UP UNTIL SHE'S DEAD!" Uncle Vernon yelled.

Harry couldn't stop himself. "Shut up, Dursley." The second he said it, it second he covered his mouth. Uncle Vernon's face turned purple.

"YOU DARE-" Uncle Vernon began, buut Hagrid gave him a sharp poke in the stomach with the tip of his umbrella to silence him.

"Yeh never knew about any of this until she told yeh?" Hagrid asked Harry.

"Er...yeah," Harry said. Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, worried that he had offended Hagrid in a way.

"Sorry?!" Hagrid yelled, rounding on the Dursleys. "It's them that should be sorry! You, Dursleys, never told Harry abou' this? Yeh mean, fer ten years, he never knew? Are-are yeh telling me that this boy didn't know _anything_ until now?"

"I do know some things," Harry said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff like that."

Hagrid just simply waved his hand. "Stuff from yer world, my world, yer parents' world. Not the Muggles' world."

"Er...Muggles?" Harry asked.

"It's what we swordsmen call non-magical people," Hagrid explained. "Fer example, these idiots yer living with."

"HOW DARE YOU CALL US THAT FILTHY WORD, MUGGLES!" Uncle Vernon suddenly roared. Harry jumped a foot into the air. "AND HOW DARE YOU CALL US IDIOTS!"

Hagrid pretended as if Uncle Vernon had never spoken.

"So, Harry," Hagrid said, pulling out a yellowish envelope addressed in green ink. Harry's heart gave a jolt of excitement: it was _his_ letter! "I reckon you should finally read yer letter after all this time."

"STOP! I FORBID YOU TO GIVE THAT TO HIM!" Uncle Vernon shouted in a panic.

"Don't try ter stop me, Muggle," Hagrid said, and handed the letter to Harry. It was addressed to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea.

"NOOOO!" Uncle Vernon darted forward, but Hagrid pushed him back with his umbrella. "Go on, Harry."

With shaky hands, Harry opened the envelope and read his letter for the first time:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ MAGICK SWORDCRAFT

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(First class, Grand Swordsman, Chf. Enchanter, Supreme Mugwump,_

 _International Confed. of Swordsmen)_

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Magick Swordcraft. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

 _Deputy Headmistress_

So many questions exploded inside Harry's head. There were so many, he didn't know which to ask first. Finally, he decided on asking, "What do they mean, they await my owl?"

Hagrid slapped his forehead. "That reminds me," he said, and pulled out a live, rather ruffled owl, a quill, and a roll of parchment from his overcoat.

Laying the parchment on the table, Hagrid quickly scribbled:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry his letter.

Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Rolling up the note, Hagrid tied it onto the owl's leg with a piece of string. Then, walking over to the window and opening it, he threw the owl out into the raging storm.

Harry couldn't help but feel bad for the owl. "Er...d'you think it was right to just throw the owl out into the storm?"

Hagrid chuckled. "Oh, they'll be fine, no problem fer 'em."

He continued. "So, Harry. Yeh know everything 'bout yer parents, so check that. Yeh know–"

"Um...actually, I don't," Harry said.

Hagrid's jaw dropped open. "B-but I thought that girl told yeh everything!"

"Only half of everything," Harry replied. "Before I thought my mum and dad had died in a car crash!"

Hagrid stared. "What makes you think that?"

"WE FREAKING TOLD HIM, DUH!" Uncle Vernon said. Harry thought that was a stupid thing for Uncle Vernon to do: there were high chances of Hagrid exploding.

And Harry had guessed right. Immediately, Hagrid started to roar as he stood up. "DURSLEY! HOW DARE YOU TELL HARRY A LIE! LILY AN' JAMES COULDN'T HAVE DIED IN A CAR CRASH! A CAR CRASH!"

"YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO OR NOT DO WITH MY OWN NEPHEW!" Uncle Vernon yelled back.

"YEH DON'T EVEN TREAT HIM LIKE A NEPHEW, TELLING HIM LIES, KEEPING THE REAL REASON WHY HIS PARENTS DIED!"

"AT LEAST WE TOOK HIM IN! I'D LIKE TO SEE HIM OUT THERE IN THE STREETS, BEGGING FOR MONEY, ASKING FOR–"

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YEH, DURSLEY!" And with that said, Hagrid raised his umbrella, pointing it at Uncle Vernon, who immediately sprouted a pig tail.

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia squeaked. "You-you've sprouted a pig tail!"

Uncle Vernon must've thought Aunt Petunia meant pigtails, because he felt his head. When there was nothing, his eyes widened in horror as he clutched his behind. This was a very funny scene; Harry had never laughed so hard at Uncle Vernon. Actually, he was pretty sure he had NEVER before laughed at his uncle. It felt good actually, laughing at his own uncle.

Out of the corneer of his eye, Harry noticed Dudley sneaking up on his birthday cake on the table. Dudley reached forward, opened the box, was about to grab a piece of cake when...

 _Poof!_

A pig tail popped up on Dudley's behind. Dudley spun around, twisting and turning (which must've been very hard, considering his size) to see what was the matter.

Uncle Vernon ran over to his son, pushing him out of the room. "We should get out, Dudley. C'mon, into the other room."

Hagrid relaxed as soon as the Dursleys left. Harry turned to him, a grin on his face.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

"Magic" was Hagrid's response. "Meant ter turn 'em into pigs, but thought they looked too much like ones, anyways. So me just used a simple charm terget 'em ter grow pig tails.

So, Harry," Hagrid continued. "Yeh already know how yer parents were killed, but yeh don't know by who, eh?"

"Who was it?" Harry asked.

"Well, it was a bad, bad, villian. Very scary." Hagrid shivered. "His name was...no, I can't say it, gives me the creeps."

"Can you write it down?" Harry asked.

"Nah, can't spell it," said Hagrid. "Alright, his name was _Voldemort_. Don't make me say it again."

Even the saying of the name sent a cold chill around the room.

"We'll be goin' ter Diagon Alley first thing tomorrow morning ter buy yer school supplies fer Hogwarts," Hagrid said, jumping to a different topic. "Want some cake?"

Harry nodded eagerly. Hagrid hummed "Happy Birthday to You" as he handed Harry a slice of the cake.

Harry took his first bite, and his eyes widened in pleasure. The cake was _delicious_. He had never tried anything as good.

Within minutes, the cake was finished. Harry and Hagrid, their bellies full, walked over to the couch. Harry fell asleep as soon as his head hit his bed, or rather, the floor.


	5. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP.**

Harry woke up to find a thick cloak draped over him.

 _Hagrid must've have done this_ , Harry thought, staring at the cloak.

He blinked. Light from the early morning sun blinded him. He yawned, putting on his glasses.

 _Today's just a nomal day_ , Harry thought to himself. _What happened last night is too good to be true._

However, he proved to be wrong. Harry glanced at the couch, and saw a massive lump (on the now squished couch), snoring.

The massive lump was...Hagrid.

With a jolt of excitement, Harry realized that the events from last night had actually happened. It wasn't just a dream!

A grin broke out on Harry's face. Hagrid had said last night they would be going to buy his school supplies today!

The giant figure on the couch gave a massive yawn, sitting up. Harry glanced over. Hagrid was rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Best for yeh ter get ready, Harry," Hagrid said, getting up and pulling on his gigantic boots.

"Um...Hagrid?" Harry said.

"Hmm?" Hagrid picked his long overcoat up from the floor.

"I don't see how I can enter the school without paying."

Hagrid waved him off. "No worries, yeh parents left yeh tons o' money at Gringotts. Speakin' of that, we'll be visiting the bank first."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You people have _banks_?"

Hagrid nodded. "Obviously! Safest place, guarded by goblins."

Harry's eyes widened. "Goblins?"

Hagrid sighed. "Yeh've got a lot ter learn, Harry. Here—have a sausage." Harry was handed a quite very large sausage. He ripped off a piece and ate it.

"Why goblins, though?" Harry asked, after swallowing a piece of sausage.

"Strict creatures, they are." Hagrid took a bite of his breakfast. "Yeh would be crazy ter try ter rob it. Never mess with goblins, Harry. So, yeah, Gringotts is the safest place for anything yeh wanna keep safe, 'cept for Hogwarts, o' course. I gotta visit Gringotts, anyways. Special assignment from Dumbledore himself." Hagrid looked proud of this. "He trusts me, good friends, we are.

"So, got everythin'? Good, c'mon." Hagrid stuffed the last bit of sausage into his mouth, wiping his hands on his coat.

The two of them stepped outside onto the rock. Harry suddenly thought of a question. "Hagrid, how did you get here?" There were no other boats except for the one Uncle Vernon had rented.

"Flew," Hagrid said, casually.

" _Flew?!"_

"Yeah, ter speed things up." Hagrid got into the boat, motioning for Harry to do the same. Harry was quite disappointed as he got into the boat (which was a quarter filled with water)—he had been hoping to see Hagrid fly.

As Hagrid rowed the boat, Harry kept on staring at him, trying to imagine him in the air, flying. All he could imagine was a child Hagrid zipping through the air as fast as possible, whooping with joy.

"Shame now that me have ter row this boat now," Hagrid muttered. He glanced at Harry. "I'm gonna speed—er—this boat up a little. Yeh mind not telling anyone?"

"Course not," Harry said, eager to see magic being performed.

As Harry watched, Hagrid tapped the boat twice with his umbrella. A second later, they were zooming off towards land.

"I still don't get it. How do goblins prevent robbers, anyways?" Harry asked. "I mean, do they have some kind of superpower or what?"

Hagrid chuckled. "Nah, they don't do it alone. They saw therwe's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults. Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try ter rob it."

The boat bumped onto the harbor, and they got out. People started to stare at Hagrid as they clambered up the stone steps. Hagrid was easy to spot.

Passersby continued to stare as they walked through the street.

They made their way through the street, looking for the train station. Whenthey found it, Hagrid pulled a few bucks out of his coat and handed it to Harry, explaining he didn't understand "Muggle money", as he called it.

They boarded the train. As they walked down the aisle, many more people stared at Hagrid.

Hagrid took up two seats, and began knitting what looked like a canary-yellow tent, which he had (of course) pulled out of his coat.

"Yeh have yer letter, Harry?" Hagrid asked, without looking up from his stitches.

"Yeah," Harry said, taking the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

"Great," Hagrid said. "There's a list of everythin' yeh need fer Hogwarts."

Harry realized that there were two sheets of parchment, not just one. He pulled one out, unfolding it. It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ MAGICK SWORDCRAFT

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Armor

2\. One helmet

3\. Three sets of black medieval tunics (one leather)

4\. One pair of gloves

5\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Magick Swordcraft (Grade 1)_

by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Swordcraft_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Aldalbert Waffling

 _A Beginner's Guide to Swordcraft b_ y Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Draughts and Poison_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 weapon (sword, dagger, bow and arrow, scythe, etc.)

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Um...are you sure we can buy all these in London?" Harry asked.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was clearly not used to it. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow. People shot Hagrid annoyed looks.

"Wierd how Muggles can manage without magic," Hagrid said as they climbed a broken escalator that led up to a road packed with people rushing here and there, buying things from the stores that lined the street.

Hagrid easily made his way through the crowd, the people parted for Hagrid, seeing his massive size. All Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed a restaurant, a book and music store, and a clothing shop. Harry kept turning his head this way and that, looking for any signs of magical, Hogwarts-related items. This street was just a normal one, selling normal things, with ordinary people. There was no way he could find anything on his supply list.

"Ah, we're here," Hagrid said, coming to a halt. "The Leaky Cauldron." Seeing Harry's questionable look, he added, "it's a famous place. An inn."

They had stopped at a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it. All the people walking past seemed to not notice it. Their eyes would pass from the big book shop on the right side of the pub to the home supply store on the left side of the Leaky Cauldron, as if they didn't notcie it at all. Harry began to wonder if only people like him and Hagrid could see it. Before he could even open his mouth to ask Hagrid about this, the giant was already steering him inside.

Inside the Leaky Cauldron, it was very dark and shaggy. A few old women sat in a corner, some drinking small glasses of sherry. One of the ones not drinking was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite blad with a pointed nose. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him. The bartender reached for a glass and said, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom. I'm on Hogwarts buisness," Hagrid said. "And, I need to get some money from the Potters' vault." Hagrid patted Harry's shoulder, but it felt more like a giant clap. Harry's knees buckled.

"'Potter', did you say?" asked the bartender, peering at Harry. "Is this — can this be —"

Harry felt everyone's eyes burning into the back of his neck.

"Good Lord," whispered the old bartender, rushing out from behind the counter, "Harry Potter... what an honor it is to have you here with us."

He shook Harry's hand with both of his own, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone's eyes were on him. The old woman with the pipe has puffing into it without realizing it had gone out. The old ladies drinking had froze, along with the little man in the top hat, staring at Harry with wide eyes. Hagrid was beaming.

Harry heard the scraping of chairs, and suddenly, he was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So glad to finally be shaking hands ith you, Mr. Potter."

"Always wanted to meet you, Mr. Potter. Seems like my wish came true."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you how much, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" Harry exclaimed as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" Dedalus Diggle exclaimed, looking around at everyone. "You all heard that? He remembers me!"

Harry's hands became sore as he shook hands over and over again with the people in the pub — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale, young man made his way forward nervously. One of his eyes were twitching.

"P-P-Professor Q-Quirrell's the n-name," the man stuttered. "P-P-Potter, c-can't t-tell you h-how p-p-pleased I am to m-meet you."

"Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts, Harry," Hagrid said.

"What sort of subject do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked eagerly.

"D-Defense A-A-Against the D-Dark A-Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "A-After f-facing Y-You-Know-Who, it's n-not like y-you n-n-need to l-learn how to d-defend youself, huh?"

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took more than 15 minutes to get away from them all. Finally, Hagrid made himself e heard over the commotion.

"Must be goin'. Lots ter buy. C'mon, Harry."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out from the back door into a small, walled courtyard. There was nothing except for a trash can and a few plants.

When the door swung shut behind them, Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you were famous. rofessor Quirrell trembled so much in meetin' ya."

"Is he always like that?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah. Poor guy. Used ter be fine," Hagrid said. "Brilliant man, he was. "Studied outta books, and then he decided ter get some first-hand experience. They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and got into some trouble with 'em. Never been the same since. Scared of his students, his own subject, everythin'. Now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Harry's mind swirled with facts. Meanwhile, Hagrid was counting bricks.

"Three up. . .two across. . .he muttered. "Okay, stand back, Harry."

Hagrid tapped the wall three times withhis umbrella.

The brick he had touched wriggled, and a small gap began to form in the middle, getting wider and wider. A second later, they were facing an archway large enough to fit both Harry and Hagrid. The archway led onto a bustling street packed with shops that twisted out of sight.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Hagrid said, grinning at Harry's shock.

They stepped through, and when Harry turned quickly to look back at the entrance, the archway was shrinking back into a wall. This day was going to have many more surprises, Harry was sure of it.

The nearest shop had a stack of cauldrons inside the window. The sign hanging over them said "Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible."

Hagrid led them up the street, Harry turning his head this way and that. There were just so many amazing things to see.

Finally, they reached a tall, looming snow-white building. Standing guard at the gold doors, dressed in a uniform of scarlet and gold, was—

"That's a goblin," Hagrid said quietly, nodding at the guard. They walked up the front steps, passing the goblin, who was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a clever face, a long, pointed beard and very long fingers and feet. The goblin bowed to them as they walked inside. Next, they faced a pair of silver doors with wordds engraved upon them:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits in the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"Yeh see? Yeh'd be mad ter try ter rob it," said Hagrid, opening the silver doors.

A pair of goblins bowed to Harry and Hagrid as they entered a marble room through the silver doors. About a hundred more goblins sat in stools behind a large counter, scribbling away on pieces of parchment, and weighing coins on a brass scale. There were many other doors in the room, leading to other halls or rooms. Some goblins were showing people in and out of those doors. Hagrid led Harry to the counter, where a goblin sat, with no work to do.

"Morning," Hagrid said. "We've come ter take some money outta Harry Potter's safe."

"Do you have his key, sir?" the goblin asked.

"Yeah, got it here somewhere," Hagrid said, emptying his pockets on the counter. He fished out a tiny golden key. "Got it."

The goblin looked at it closely, then nodded.

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid, standing up straight and handing an envelope to the goblin. "It's in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter, before looking up.

"Very well, then," he said, carefully folding up the letter and sliding it into the envelope. "I will have Griphook take you down to both vaults." The goblin handed the letter, in its envelope, back to Hagrid. Turning around, the goblin called, "Griphook!"

Griphook was, of course, another goblin. Once Hagrid had stuffed all of his things back into his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors.

"What's the thing you have to fetch in vault seven hundred and thirteen for Dumbledore?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Can't tell ya," Hagrid said mysteriously. "An' don't call him that. He's Professor Dumbledore to ya. Headmaster of Hogwarts, that's who he is."

Griphook swung open a door for them, and they walked through. Harry, who had been expecting more marble, was greatly surprised. They were in a long, stone corridor lit with flaming torches on the walls. There were railway tracks on the floor, leading downward steeply. Griphook put his fingers to his mouth, and whistled. A small cart came rattling up the railway tracks towards them so fast Harry was sure they'd be hit. He braced himself for impact, but it never came. He opened his eyes, and saw the cart standing still in front of him. Hagrid climbed in (with great difficulty), then Harry followed. Griphook went last.

The cart paused, then suddenly lurched forward. Harry was about to fly forward, but Hagrid cought him by the arm, pulling him back to his seat. They speeded through a maze of twisting passages that were impossible to remember. The cart must've beeen moving on its own, because Griphook wasn't steering.

The cart moved faster and faster. About three minutes into the ride, Harry thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of the passage. As the cart zoomed past it, Harry twisted his head around to see if it was a dragon, but darkness swallowed whatever had caused the flames. They plunged deeper, past an underground lake and past an area where stalactites grew from the ceiling.

Harry glanced at Hagrid and nearly jumped off the cart. Hagrid looked very green, as if he were abou to puke.

"Um...Hagrid?" Harry said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," grumbled Hagrid. An' don't ask me questions now, I feel like I'm gonna be sick."

The cart finally screeched to a stop beside a small door in the wall. Hagrid got out, leaning against the wall, trying to steady his breathing.

Griphook unlocked the door, revealing a green smoke, which came pouring out. When it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mountains of gold coins, mounds of silver, and columns of bronze coins.

"An' they're all yours," Hagrid said from next to Harry, smiling.

"B-but how—" Harry gaped at all the coins—all his.

"Yer parents were rich, Harry," Hagrid said, taking out a bag from his pocket. "An' their fortune all went ter yeh."

As Hagrid helped Harry pile some of the coins into a bag, he began to explain the worth of the coins and what they were.

"These gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid said. "These silver coins are Sickles. It takes seventeen of 'em ter make a Galleon. An' these bronze ones, they're Knuts. It takes twenty-nine of them ter make a Sickle, so it takes, um..." Hagrid paused, doing the math quickly in his head. "...four hundred ninety-three Knuts ter make a Galleon.

"Alright, vault number seven hundred and thirteen now, please," said Hagrid. "An' can we please go a bit more slowly this time?"

"Sorry," said Griphook. "One speed only."

They climbed into the cart again, Harry carrying his bag of coins. The cart went even deeper in the tunnel, gaining speed. The air got even colder as they turned corners. They went over a pit (that seemed to have no bottom) on a narrow bridge. Harry leaned over the side to see if anything was down there, but Hagrid pulled him back by his shirt collar, saying that he might fall.

The cart finally arrived at vault seven hundred and thirteen, but the door had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook, pushing Harry towards Hagrid, who was waiting by the cart. As Harry watched, Griphook touched the door with one of his long fingers, and it simply melted away.

"If anybody but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they would be sucked through the door and be trapped inside forever," said Griphook.

"Do you ever check if anyone's inside?" Harry asked curiously.

"Of course we do," Griphook said. "Once every ten years." He had a rather nasty grin on his face.

Hagrid stepped inside, followed by Harry, then Griphook. Harry had been expecting rubies and jewels, but the room was pretty much empty except for one little package on the floor, which Hagrid immediately picked up and shoved deep into his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but kept quiet, knowing better than to ask.

"Come on, back ter the cart, and don't talk ter me the rest of the way, I might puke," Hagrid said to Harry.

After yet another wild cart ride, Harry stood with Hagrid, blinking, in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to go with his bag full of money, so he waited for Hagrid to finish drinking a big bottle of water.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, finishing his drink. He nodded towards a nearby shop, Madam Malkin's Robes and Tunics for All Occasions. "Harry, would yeh mind if I go ter the Leaky Cauldron ter cheer myself up? I hate those Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous. He paused outside the door, noticing a sign saying, NO FOOD ALLOWED, before entering.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in purple.

"Hogwarts, dear?" Madam Malkin said, smiling. "Got a lot today, we've got a young witch being fitted up just now, in fact." She nodded to a girl with bushy brown hair standing nearby, waiting for another witch to choose her tunic. She was looking at Harry.

"Hermione!" Harry grinned. "I thought I wouldn't see you until Hogwarts!"

"Mum and Dad have been quite busy lately, but they found time to bring me to buy my school supplies today," Hermione explained.

"Here you go, dear," Madam Malkin said, handing Harry his black tunic. It was short, up to his thigh, and looked like a large shirt. Down the middle in the front was a large crack. It was a V-neck, short-sleeved, and tied at the waist with a belt.

Right at that time, Hermione recieved her tunic, too. It was the exact same as Harry's.

"Thank you," Harry said to Madam Malkin politely. "I'll take one more of this type, and one leather tunic."

Madam Malkin hurried off to fetch Harry's requested tunics.

"And I suppose you will need those too?" the witch who had been helping Hermione asked her. She nodded, and the witch left, following Madam Malkin.

"Which House do you think you'll be in?" Hermione asked Harry out of the blue. "I really hope I'll get into Gryffindor, its sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad...I just hope I don't get into Slytherin, they say that House is packed with the evil ones. In fact, that's the House Voldemort was in."

"Um...what are the Houses, anyways?" Harry asked, feeling quite stupid.

Hermione didn't miss a beat. She began listing off the Houses. "There's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." She looked at him. "Gryffindor is the House of the brave, Slytherin's the House of the proud, Hufflepuffs are the hard workers, and Ravenclaw's the House of the wise."

"I don't know yet," Harry said. He was sure that there were no chances of him getting into Ravenclaw, he wasn't at all wise. So he added, "Not Ravenclaw, that's for sure."

"Then you'll be in Gryffindor, I'm sure of it," said Hermione. "Your parents were in Gryffindor, too, you know."

That rerminded Harry about the question (okay, maybe more than one) he had always longed to ask her since that day at the zoo when they first met. "How do you know so much about me, anyways? I mean, I know that I'm, er, _famous_ , and all, but who told you about me? You couldn't have read it from the textbooks, of course, since you just went shopping for your school supplies today."

Hermione smiled. "Very nice logic, Mr. Potter," she said. "You just might get sorted into Ravenclaw.

As for your question, it was my parents' friend, who's a wizard."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling like a total idiot. There was an awkward silence. Harry didn't want to look like he was retarded again.

Just then, Madam Manec and the second witch came back with Harry and Hermione's tunics. They had even brought two winter cloaks.

"Here you go, dears," Madam Manec said, handing Harry his cloak and tunics as the second witch handed Hermione hers.

"Who's that?" Hermione asked, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and holding up two ice cream cones to show that he couldn't come in.

"Oh, that's Hagrid," Harry said. He pulled out his money pouch and paid for his clothing, just as Hermione did so, too.

Harry walked with Hermione out the door, after thanking Madam Manec. Hagrid handed Harry his ice cream (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"Hagrid, I'd like to introduce you to Hermione Granger, my friend," Harry said, gesturing at Hermione with one hand.

Hagrid shook her hand. "Nice ter meet yeh," he said. "I'm Hagrid, the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts."

Hermione winced. "Nice to meet you too, sir."

Hagrid handed his ice cream to Hermione. "Here yeh go," he said simply. "A little thing ter repay yeh fer lettin' Harry know the truth."

Hermione looked reluctant, but took the cone anyways. "Thank you."

Hermione ate their ice creams silently, while Harry bombarded Hagrid with questions.

"Hagrid," Harry said, suddenly, "can you tell me more about the four houses?"

"Ah. The School Houses," said Hagrid. "Well, there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Ev'ryone says that Hufflepuffs are a bunch o' bulls in a china shop—"

"I bet I'll get Sorted into Hufflepuff," Harry said miserably.

"At least Hufflepuff's better than Slytherin." Hagrid's eyes darkened. "Most people who end up in Slytherin turned bad. Went over ter You-Know-Who's side. You-Know-Who was a Slytherin himself, obviously."

"They let a villain into Hogwarts?"

"Don't know the full story," Hagrid said. "Ask Dumbledore. He was here way before You-Know-Who even started at Hogwarts."

Harry and Hermione finished their ice cream cones and bought their book at a place called Flourish and Blotts, where the shelves were stacked high to the top with books of all sizes.

"Wow," Hermione breathed in amazement.

After Harry got all of his books, he searched around, looking for a book that might teach him how to get revenge on Dudley. His search was a failure.

Hermione bought a bunch of extra books, before they headed off to buy a nice set of solid gold brass scales, a collapsible cauldron (Harry wanted to buy a solid gold one, but Hagrid pointed out that the list said it had to be pewter), and a silver phial. Then they visited the Armory (Sorry, but no weapons!), where they bought their armor and helmets.

Hagrid checked Harry's list as they headed out of the Armory.

"Just yer sword left—oh, yeah, I need ter get yeh a birthday present, since I haven't already."

Harry blushed. "You don't have to—"

"I know, I know," Hagrid said, waving Harry off. "Tell yeh what, I'll get yeh an animal. An owl, ter be precise. They can carry yer mail an' everything. Very useful creatures."

They walked into Eeylops Owl Emporium, where tons of owls stared down at the newcomers (Hermione waved at them, smiling). One particular owl caught Harry's eye. It was snowy white, fast asleep with her head under her wings. Harry couldn't wait to see her when she woke. Harry thanked Hagrid over and over again.

"It was yeh birthday present, after all," Hagrid said. "No need ter thank me. Just Ollivander's left now—best place fer weapons."

Harry hung back to talk with Hermione, after saying one last thank-you to Hagrid.

"What's up?" he said to her. She looked up.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." She looked nervous. "Ah, I-I'm s-s-so excited to, um, get my w-weapon for Hogwarts!" She was stuttering, just like Profesosor Quirrell. Harry didn't get it at first, but then it hit him.

"Weapons creep you out," Harry guessed, and Hermione turned pink with embarrassment.

"T-that's not it at all!" she squeaked. "I-it's just that, um, I don't like sharp tips!" She giggled nervously.

"Did you just _lie_ to me, Ms. Granger?" Harry said, pushing his glasses up and glowering at her. She laughed.

"You're funny, Harry," she said, shaking her head.

"Alright, here we are," Hagrid suddenly said in front of them.

They were at the last shop on Diagon Alley. It was narrow and shabby, with peeling gold letters over the door that read OLLIVANDER'S: MAKERS OF FINE WEAPONS SINCE 382 B.C. A single sword laid on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

As Hagrid opened the door, a bell rang somewhere inside the shop. It was a tiny shop, with a single chair that Hagrid took to wait. Harry felt as if he had broken into someone's house; he swallowed down his newly erupted questions and focused on the thousands of long boxes of all sizes. Some big, some small, some thin, some wide. They were all piled up to the ceiling.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped and whirled around. Hagrid must have jumped too, because Harry heard a loud crunching noise and he quickly got off the chair.

An old man stood before Harry, his wide, pale eyes shimmering like moons.

"Um, hello?" Harry said, awkwardly.

"Ah, yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Mr. Harry Potter." The man leaned towards Harry, observing him. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was here, purchasing her dagger. A tanto. Your father, however, bought a sword. A longsword, to be precise. He favored it very much. Of course, it's really the sword that chooses the swordsman."

Mr. Ollivander straightened, and finally noticed Hermione and Hagrid.

"Rubeus!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed. "How nice to see you again! Do you still have your sword? Broadsword, as I recall?"

"Yes, sir, I do," said Hagrid.

"However, I suppose they extracted all magic from it when you were expelled?" Mr. Ollivander's face suddenly grew stern.

"Er—yes, they did," said Hagrid nervously, shuffling his feet. "But I still have a bit o' magic in me sword left," he added brightly.

"But do you use it?" Mr. Ollivander said, giving Hagrid a piercing look.

"No, sir," Hagrid said quickly. "Of course not."

Mr. Ollivander turned to Hermione. "And your name is—?"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione quietly.

"Ah," said Mr. Ollivander. "Well, very nice to meet you, Ms. Granger."

"Let's start with Mr. Potter here, shall we?" Mr. Ollivander said, pulling a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "What is your dominant hand?"

Harry held up his right arm.

"Okay. Hold out your arm. That's it." Mr. Ollivander measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head.

Ollivander dropped the tape measure, then snapped his fingers. The tape measure lifted off from the ground, and began measuring Harry by itself. Mr. Ollivander headed off to the shelves that held all the boxes. He started pulling down boxes from the shelves, reading labels.

"That will do," Mr. Ollivander said, and the tape measure immediately stopped what it was doing and crumpled to the ground. "Alright, Mr. Potter, try this one. Chinese Dao. Just take it and slash it through the air."

Harry opened the case, and took out a slightly curved sword. He took it out, and was about to slash it through the air, but Mr. Ollivander grabbed it out of his hands and stuffed it back into its case.

"No, no," he said. "That won't do. Try this one. A rapier. Very good at thrusting."

Harry took out a long, narrow sword with a fancy design on the blade. He took it and drew his arm back, but then Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand, shaking his head.

"Broadsword. Try—"

But Harry could barely lift the sword out from its case.

"Here. Tachi."

Harry was able to lift this one (although it was quite heavy) but it almost cut him in half when he tried to slice it through the air.

Harry tried, over and over again. He even tried a strange sword called the urumi, which was flexible and floppy, like a whip. He even tried to shoot a bow and arrow, but it just flopped loosily to the ground. The stack of tried weapons was starting to get higher and higher, but the more boxes Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to be. Harry, however, felt discouraged. What if he never found his weapon?

"Hmm. Tricky customer, eh?" Mr Olivander said, searching in the shelves again. "But not to worry, we'll find the perfect match for you here somewhere— I know I have it—aha, here it is. Special sword. Hmm...strange combination. Diamond and lightning. But here you go."

Harry took the sword, and warmth passed from it into his body. It sparked with lightning. He raised the sword, and sliced it through the air. Electric sparks shot from the tip, nearly blasting Mr. Ollivander.

Hagrid whooped happily, Hermione cheered, and Mr. Ollivander clapped enthusiastically. "Oh, bravo! Yes, very good. I suppose that makes you one of the three Guardians. A huge honor, but very dangerous, I must warn you." Then, lowering his voice, he began muttering, "Curious, how very curious..."

(Harry chose to ignore the last part.)

"What are you talking about? How can I be a Guardian? I don't even know any magic yet!" Harry was pretty sure that Mr. Ollivander had made a big mistake. Or the sword had accidently chosen him.

"You will learn soon enough, Mr. Potter. And it is the sword that chooses the swordsman, after all," Mr. Ollivander said. "Now, Ms. Granger, I believe it is your turn now."

Harry stepped back to let Hermione take his place. Hermione shuffled forward nervously.

"What is your sword arm?" Mr. Ollivander asked, and Hermione raised her right hand.

Mr. Ollivander snapped his fingers, and the tape measure laying on the floor flew up to begin measuring Hermione's arm. Mr. Ollivander went over to the stack of boxes on the chair, and began putting some of them back on their shelves. While he was doing this, he pulled a few more boxes out of the shelves.

"Alright, that's enough," Mr. Ollivander said, placing a stack of boxes at Hermione's feet. The tape measure crumpled in a heap to the ground.

Mr. Ollivander opened the first box. Inside was a knife. Hermione looked at it uncertainly.

"Hamidashi. Japanese dagger." Mr. Ollivander handed it to Hermione.

"Slash it through the air," he ordered. Hermione raised the hamidashi above her head, and was about to slice it through the air when Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hands.

"No, not this one," he said, placing it back into its case. "Here, try this one. A khopesh. Made in Egypt."

The khopesh looked like an oversized hook, with a deadly looking tip. Hermione whimpered as she took it out. She was halfway with slashing it through the air when Mr. Ollivander grabbed her wrist and took the khopesh.

"That won't do, either," Mr. Ollivander said, shoving it back into the box.

And Hermione continued to try, sword after knife after spear. She even tried a fan (Harry wondered how a fan was even a weapon), until finally—

"Ice bow and arrow. Try to shoot it." Mr. Ollivander handed Hermione the weapon. It was rather cool looking, and had an ice tip for the arrow. The shaft of the arrow looked like it was made of icicles (maybe it was). The weapon itself was silver and blue, with icicles lining the limb.

"Wow," said Hermione. Harry knew that she had fallen in love with the arrow.

Mr. Ollivander beckoned towards a target, moving out of the way. Hermione didn't need to be told what to do. She nocked the arrow, and shot. Harry watched as the arrow whizzed through the air...and landed on the bull's eye.

"Ah, very good, very good!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed. "Well, well, well, how curious, how very curious indeed..."

"But how..." Hermione said, lowering the weapon. "How...how did I do that?"

"Ms. Granger, like I told Mr. Potter, it is the weapon that chooses its master. And it seems that this special weapon here has chosen _you_ ," Mr. Ollivander said, fixing Hermione with his pale stare.

Harry had a question of his own to ask Mr. Ollivander. "Er, sorry, but _what's_ curious?" He was really starting to get sick of him repeating, "curious."

Mr. Ollivander turned to face Harry.

"I still remember the three former Guardians that possessed the three Enchanted Blades. And never have I sold more than one of those to anybody. It is very curious indeed how two Guardians came to me, together, on the same day.

"And it is also very curious that you possess the Lightning Blade, the brother of your father's sword. The Cursed Sword. Apparently, he chose to swap his original longsword for the Cursed one, once belonging to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. No one knows why he replaced it with a gun, however.

"Now. The price for both of your weapons will be fourteen Galleons," Mr. Ollivander said, letting Harry know that their conversation was over.

Harry and Hermione each paid seven gold Galleons for their wands, and, as they left, Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The sun was setting as Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, and back through the Leaky Cauldron, which was now empty.

"Hermione!" a voice cried happily as they stepped out onto the street.

They looked up. A couple stood before them, beaming at Hermione. The woman had long brown hair tied in a ponytail, bangs covering her forehead, and green eyes. The male had light brown hair, and brown eyes. They both looked to be in their 50's.

The woman spread out her arms, and Hermione rushed into them.

After a few seconds of hugging, Hermione pulled away from the woman. Harry was still trying to put the pieces together when she said, "Harry, Hagrid, these people are my parents. Mum, Dad, they're my friends, Harry and Hagrid."

"Very nice to meet you," Mr. Granger said, shaking Hagrid's hand. Harry watched as Hagrid's gigantic hand crushed Mr. Granger's.

Hagrid nodded at Mrs. Granger, shaking her hand too. She, like her husband, got her hand squashed.

Harry said a polite "hello" to both Mr. and Mrs. Granger. They smiled at him.

"Ever since we took her to the zoo, Hermione's been talking nonstop about you!" Mrs. Granger said.

"Er...did she?" Harry glanced at Hermione. She had turned very pink.

"What time's our train, Mum?" Hermione asked quickly, trying to change the subject (and probably steer her mother away from answering).

Mrs. Granger didn't hesitate. "Seven forty-seven." She glanced at her watch. "Oh! It's seven thirty-five already! We have to get going. Very nice to meet you both."

They hurried off. Hermione hugged Harry and waved to Hagrid, before following her parents.

Hagrid turned to Harry. "Our train does't leave until eight. Got time fer a bite."

Harry followed Hagrid to a nearby fast-food restaurant. Hagrid ordered two hamburgers, and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them.

"So, Harry," Hagrid said, swallowing. "How was yer birthday?"

Harry chewed his hamburger, not sure how to explain. Today had been the best birthday of his life, and yet...

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "But the truth is, I'm not. I don't even remember Vol-, er, I mean, You-Know-Who killing my parents. I don't know anything about swordcraft. How can they expect great things from me?"

Hagrid smiled kindly, leaning across the table.

"Don't you worry, Harry. Yeh'll learn fast enough. There are others who don' know anything yet either. Just be yerself. Yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts, like me when I was yer age. Still do, 'smatter of fact."

They finished eating their hamburgers, and both Harry and Hagrid boarded the Underground. People stared at them curiously, which wasn't a surprise with what they were carrying (funny shaped packages and the snowy owl asleep in its cage). They went up another escalator, then out into Paddington station.

Hagrid helped Harry onto the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, and handed him a yellowish envelope.

"Yer ticket fer the Hogwarts Express," he explained. "First o' September—King's Cross, Platform nine and three-quarters. It's all on yer ticket. Don' lose it."

As the train pulled out of the station, Harry pressed his nose against the window, trying to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight. But then he blinked and Hagrid had disappeared.

 **A/N: Hey guys. Sorry for that slow update. I don't know what happened to my typing. It's so bad now.**

 **I hope this didn't waste thirty-one minutes of your time to read. If it did, I give you my sincere apologies!**

 **Anyways, let me know if you liked this chapter!**


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